


Knock on wood

by Qitana



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU, Aged-Up Character(s), Angst with a Happy Ending, Bar manager! Akaashi, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou are Bros, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Morse Code, Slice of Life, Volleyball coach! Bokuto, an absurd amount of post it notes, briefest mentions of kisses, extremely ace friendly, hospital visits, lots of self introspection, mentions of kuroken, mentions of major character injury, there are feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 02:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6220414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qitana/pseuds/Qitana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was awake again, his mind leaving the stage it had briefly slipped into, and he sat up slowly, ignoring his protesting muscles. Something about the knock sounded so familiar- the timing, the precision with which each hit sounded against the wall and resonated in his skull, the sequence of the taps. When it did click in his brain, Bokuto’s eyes widened in shock. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognized it sooner, couldn’t believe he was hearing it after all this time. </p><p> </p><p>The knock was morse code, and the message was exceptionally simple- all it said was a simple, recurring <em>Hello</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knock on wood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nairuru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nairuru/gifts).



> I listened to a lot of built by titan while writing this, I think it may have influenced the fic lol. 
> 
> This story comes from a personal place for me, and I'd be really happy if you left some feedback! 
> 
> And, as always, [naru](http://nairuru.tumblr.com/) gently pushed me, and guided me, and made sure I actually got this done. This one's for you babe, thank you for everything <3 
> 
> Happy reading!

Bokuto fell face first onto his bed, by far his most favorite piece of furniture in the world. He had splurged on a rather expensive mattress, and it was so worth it- he slept like a goddamn baby every night. The sheets were freshly washed, and smelled of the new fabric softener he had purchased, and he made a note to stick to this one for a while. The smell wasn’t overwhelming, but it made its presence known, and that was perfect for him.

Pushing his face into his pillows, he sighed into them as his entire body began relaxing, each limb slowly loosening from its rather wound up state. It was a painful process, and the aches in his joints were getting to him, but it was a satisfying pain, a good pain, the kind of ache that made you feel like you did something remotely productive.

His knees were giving him trouble again, but the new brace was working wonders, and it allowed him a lot more flexibility and agility without compromising his jump. He decided to call his physiotherapist to convey his thanks. Being a volleyball coach for university students was extremely taxing, and he needed to do a lot to keep up with them. He made up for his physical shortcomings with his enthusiasm, and he knew his students were fond of him, but he wanted to stay as fit as his damaged body allowed. He was never one to be satisfied with anything less than the best.

 

His breathing had begun to even out and he felt himself slowly losing consciousness, slipping into that transcendent state, a state where one could perceive their surroundings, yet their body had already shut down, and their mind was free to wonder, free to simply contemplate. Just as he sank further into the bed, he heard a knock. And then another. And then a few more. 

 

His first assumption was that someone was moving something, that the occurrence was random, but it happened again. And again. _And again._

 

It wasn’t irritating at all actually- it had a rhythm, the same staccato of sounds repeating over and over again, and the knock against his wooden wall wasn’t hard and cringe inducing- on the contrary, it was muted, and soft enough that he could probably hear it only because his bed was so close to the wall. 

 

He was awake again, his mind leaving the stage it had briefly slipped into, and he sat up slowly, ignoring his protesting muscles. Something about the knock sounded so familiar- the timing, the precision with which each hit sounded against the wall and resonated in his skull, the sequence of the taps. When it did click in his brain, Bokuto’s eyes widened in shock. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognized it sooner, couldn’t believe he was hearing it after all this time. 

 

The knock was morse code, and the message was exceptionally simple- all it said was a simple, recurring _Hello_.

 

And they simply said it over and over again, like a broken recorder, and Bokuto was sure it was morse, because nothing could explain each and every tap, nothing could explain how accurately they were almost _whispering_ the greeting over and over again.

 

Bokuto wasn’t sure what prompted him to do it- curiosity perhaps; maybe boredom, or maybe an innate sense of loneliness that had snuck in since Kuroo moved in with Kenma and ceased to be his roommate. But he raised his hand, slowly at first, his movements so obviously hesitant, before he quickly brought his knuckle against the wooden surface, his knowledge of morse not the least bit rusty as he quickly tapped out a reply before he had the opportunity to chicken out.

 

_Hi there_

 

His response was met with silence- complete and utter silence. He could feel chills run through his entire body, upturning his stomach and making him feel just a tad bit nauseous. Bokuto knew he had absolutely no reason to be nervous- he didn't know the person on the other side of the wall, and that person was under no obligation to respond. He was slowly beginning to assume that the _hello_ was a mistake on the other person's part, that they were tapping out a rhythm they liked and didn't know morse after all- 

 

All his doubts flew straight out the window and he breathed out in relief when the knocks returned, slightly louder this time, perhaps so he wouldn't miss it, and the pattern was different. A new message.

 

_I'm so sorry if I was disturbing you! Nervous habit of mine, I tend to tap morse on surfaces._

 

Bokuto could sense the potential conversation killer from a mile away, and he was lonely enough to actually want to talk to his neighbor using morse on a wooden wall. He wasn't a being meant to survive alone- he loved company, and being around people, and now that he finally had the apartment to himself, even if he had enjoyed the solitude in the beginning, it was suffocating now, if that made any sense. The eternal silence, the absence of just another living being, their mannerisms, their quirks, just the sound of them _breathing_. Bokuto missed it all, and today, he really didn't want to be alone. So before the other man could cut the conversation short, he quickly tapped out a response he hoped wasn't too forward, but also not so subtle that the man could ignore his desperate plea for company. 

 

_It's totally cool, I think it's nice someone else knows it! When did you learn?_

 

Again, deathly silence. Bokuto could practically _feel_ the man thinking on the other side of the wall, and what made the pit of his stomach churn was the fact that he didn't know which aspect the man was mulling over- conversing with a stranger, conversing in morse, being asked weirdly personal questions, or the fact that the stranger seemed to want to talk to him. Maybe he wasn't interested, but Bokuto was taking a chance here. He didn't want to bother Kuroo anymore than he already did, and he really needed to expand his friend circle, so why not start with a neighbor?

 

_My dad was ex military. He taught me as part of a game, but I never forgot. What about you?_

 

To say Bokuto's lips were upturned into a face-splitting smile would be a gross understatement. Not only had the person responded, they'd asked a question back, and he was sure he could safely assume that he wasn't the only one curious. When he thought about it, he realized he had no memory of what his neighbor even looked like, and he definitely doesn't remember ever meeting them at the door, in an elevator, nothing. 

 

_I have a LOT of nervous energy so my mom thought learning morse would be a good way to kind off take care of the extra energy._

 

 _Did it work?_

 

Bokuto chuckled before responding. 

 

_Not one bit but I learned a pretty neat way of communicating._

 

Bokuto knew it was only his wishful thinking, but he couldn't help imagine the person laughing, voice slightly muffled. The prospect made him smile, and he felt miffed by the fact that he wanted to make a nameless stranger smile so much. 

 

_Well it's nice to finally meet someone who knows morse if I'm being totally honest_

 

Bokuto agreed wholeheartedly.

 

 _Definitely. Hey if it isn't too much to ask, may I know your name?_

 

He rushed to continue, praying that he wasn't misjudging the stranger's interest. _I mean we are next door neighbors and all, and I know little to nothing about you. At least tell me your pronouns?_

 

Bokuto was again introduced to his arch enemy, silence, and he sat there wondering if he had moved too fast. It was only natural that he wanted to know the person's name, or at the very least their pronouns so he wouldn't offend them. Being around college students made him a very open minded person, and it had exposed him to so many different things he hadn't even considered before. He was never a conservative person, more uneducated and ill informed if anything. He loved people from different walks of life, and new people fascinated him. 

 

The silence was almost unbearable this time, and he felt like it was the longest one in the conversation yet, though he was pretty sure it wasn't actually _that_ long by normal conversation standards. Again, he was baffled by the sheer amount of interest he was showing in this individual. Whether they were next door neighbors or they both knew morse, he knew too little about this person to be so invested in them. It didn't scare him, just took him by surprise. 

 

When a response finally came, it took Bokuto by surprise because he wasn't expecting one after such a long wait. He was desperate for company, but not desperate enough to beg for it. 

 

_A-k-a-a-s-h-i K-e-i-j-i. He/his pronouns are good. And you?_

 

The first thought to pop into Bokuto's head was that the name had a nice ring to it. He whispered it to himself and it slid off his tongue in the most pleasant way, leaving a nice taste in its wake. He grinned to himself before he realized that he needed to respond. He vaguely wondered if that person, Akaashi, felt the same kind of anxiety when Bokuto didn't reply immediately. He doubted it. 

 

_B-o-k-u-t-o K-o-u-t-a-r-o-u. He/his is cool with me too._

 

 _I'm curious_ Bokuto continued to tap, wanting to solve one mystery before potentially developing a friendship with this Akaashi person. _How come we've never bumped into one another?_

 

_Ahh not surprising at all. I work a night job. Club manager for a friend's bar._

 

That made sense. Before Bokuto could reply however, Akaashi continued to tap away. 

 

_I have work now Bokuto I gotta go_

 

Bokuto felt slightly panicked and before he could stop himself, he lurched forward and quickly tapped out one final message.

 

_Will we talk again tomorrow_

 

He was met with an empty silence yet again but this time, even after waiting for five whole minutes, he hadn't received a response. Disappointment flooded his mind and made him pout as he slowly sank back into the bed, which suddenly didn't seem as inviting.

 

His body's exhaustion got to him and he slowly began drifting away again, and he was 100% sure he was dreaming the rhythmic tapping of a _Yes_ against his wall.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bokuto hadn't forgotten about the strange interaction that had transpired between him and the elusive Akaashi the previous evening, but it wasn't on the forefront of his mind either. Practice and training kept him extremely busy, especially with a few important tournaments coming up in the following weeks.

 

The sound of the players tapping their feet on the wooden floor would sometimes momentarily distract him, and he couldn't help think about the man. It still made him feel odd, how a man he had never met before was taking up so much of his mind space, but he couldn't stop thinking about him. 

 

When he finally reached home, after a quick shower and some cup noodles, Bokuto dived into bed and wiggled around a bit before finding what he deemed the perfect position and got comfortable, sighing in content. Akaashi had taken a back seat in his mind, and for that he was thankful because overthinking everything was pretty exhausting. 

 

A knock on his wall had him jump out of bed, and he quickly scrambled to his knees, eyes locked on the surface in front of him. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he wasn't even breathing, scared he'd miss the rap over the sound of his own intake of oxygen. 

 

It took a couple of moments, but the familiar tap could be heard again and Bokuto couldn't handle the sheer amount of _relief_ that flooded his system. He carefully listened and deciphered the message with ease. 

 

_Hello Bokuto_

 

Pushing his palm against the wall, he stabilized himself before using his other hand to tap out a _Hey there Akaashi_

 

 _Ah before I forget- what do you do Bokuto_

 

 _I'm a volleyball coach for uni kids_

 

 _You play volleyball? I love volleyball_

 

Bokuto's eyes widened at the rather enthusiastic confession- the enthusiasm was clear because Akaashi had tapped the message out harder and in a slightly rushed manner. His lips involuntarily stretched into a smile as he tapped out a reply.

 

 _I've loved volleyball since forever. I'm a wing spiker! You?_

 

 _Setter_

 

Bokuto didn't know why he had automatically assumed the same. Somehow the man just seemed like a setter- calm, patient, careful and just a tad bit weary.

 

_How old are you Bokuto?_

 

Bokuto couldn't complain one bit about how forward Akaashi was being- perhaps he felt bad about leaving Bokuto hanging the previous day, or perhaps he was just as curious as the white haired man himself, but whatever the reason, he decided to go along with it. 

 

_25\. You_

 

_24\. I apologize for not using an honorific Bokuto-san_

 

Bokuto's eyes widened at the rather odd apology. People didn't normally make such a big deal about these things anymore, but he sensed that this was important to the man, so he simply shrugged and tried to play it cool.

 

_Totally ok. What you up to?_

 

 _I'm actually heading out right now, I'll see you later Bokuto-san_

 

Bokuto was glad he wasn't standing face to face with the man, at least he wouldn't be able to see the look of utter disappointment as he tapped out a _Yeah ok bye_

 

He slowly slumped back into bed and got comfortable, but a small smile was dancing on his lips, and he couldn't help think about tomorrow. He was sure he'd talk to the man again, and it made him inexplicably happy.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Bro," Kuroo grumbled, pulling Bokuto out of his daydream. 

 

"Yeah?"

 

"What the hell are you thinking about? You're so distracted AND you've got that creepy-ass smile on your face." 

 

"Are _you_ seriously talking to _me_ about creepy smiles? And not much really, jus-"

 

"Can't stop thinking about Akaashi huh?," Kuroo's voice sounded mostly teasing, but there was an undertone of irritation in there as well.

 

"I can't help it! We have so much in common and we talk a lot and just- ahhhhhh!"

 

Kuroo sighed and took another swing of his beer. They were at their favorite bar, two blocks away from Bokuto's apartment, and it was a lazy Sunday night. The music was muted and cheesy, the smell of stale smoke was stifling, and yet they couldn't find it in themselves to change their regular spot. This place was special, it always had been. Kuroo never brought Kenma here, and Bokuto never got any of his love interests (not that he had many to begin with). This bar was _their_ thing, and dingy though it maybe, it had some very important memories attached to it.

 

Bokuto could almost remember it like it had happened yesterday- when he received news from the doc telling him he couldn't play seriously anymore, that his legs would give out on him after the accident. He and Kuroo had been roommates back then, and he had bolted the minute he heard, Kuroo yelling after him. He found himself in this cheap joint, and one look at him had the bartender placing drinks in front of him and throwing him sympathetic looks. He only later found out that the drinks were mostly juice, and extremely diluted alcohol.

 

Kuroo had found him about an hour later and the first thing he had done was yell, out of concern of course, but his frustration almost matched his best friend's because he could almost feel Bokuto's pain. They were bros, they were best friends and Bokuto was convinced they were somehow connected on a spiritual level as well. They got into a fight, an all out bar fight, and only once they were separated by two burly biker men with concerned looks on their face did Bokuto finally break. The dam he hid behind collapsed and he sobbed- he was so sick of being strong all the time. He couldn't play anymore, and the pain in his legs were proof of the end of his professional career, his dream of making the Japan team and _maybe_ the Olympics. 

 

As the tears stained his face, Kuroo had gently pulled him into the warmest embrace he had ever been blessed with, and the feel of Kuroo's sturdy body against his own combined with that familiar cologne he had always used since high school made him bawl that much harder- he simply clung to the man as his entire body shivered and shook.

 

It took time for him to finally acknowledge that an era had come to an end, and that it was time for him to start a new legacy, but Kuroo had been there the whole time. Bokuto knew he had put off moving in with Kenma for his sake, but he couldn't help his selfishness. He knew they didn't mind, but sometimes he did feel extremely guilty, and when Kuroo had very hesitantly suggested that he consider moving in with Kenma a few months later, Bokuto had given him his heartiest congratulations and blessings. He loved Kuroo, and he knew he deserved all the happiness in the world. Being with Kenma made the man happy, so he let him go with a smile on his face and an ache in his heart. It wasn't that Kuroo began neglecting him or anything, but there was always a difference between living with someone and meeting up with them on a daily bases.

 

That void that had been left in Kuroo's wake- it wasn't something that could be filled. It would probably always be there, but what Akaashi did was he distracted Bokuto from the void. Every conversation they had would suck Bokuto in completely, and he found himself entranced by the way Akaashi would describe his job or his day or anything as silly and mundane. 

 

So far, from the one week they had been interacting with each other on an everyday bases, he had found out that Akaashi had black hair and fairly pale skin, and was to the slender side (his own description). He liked his coffee black, and he loved his job, even if he was nervous about it sometimes. Apparently, it was his first time managing an entire group of people, and he was scared things would get out of control. 

 

He didn't play volleyball a whole lot anymore, but he still loved the sport- all their volleyball centered conversations were tapped out more insistently, with a sort of childish enthusiasm. 

 

"Why don't you just ask for his number?," Kuroo asked for the hundredth time as he finished his beer and flagged the bartender down for another one. Bokuto threw a pout his way and rested his chin on his palm, eyes trained on the multitude of bottles decorating the bar wall, the colors so vibrant, it almost hurt. 

 

"I told you already! It feels more special this way. Plus, I don't know if he likes men, and it's kinda hard to bring that up in the convo. AND I'm still scared off moving too fast; we've only known each other a week." 

 

"But you already have such a ginormous crush on him." It wasn't a question, Kuroo was merely stating an obvious fact. 

 

"Yeah," Bokuto groaned in defeat, and even he couldn't explain to his best friend why he liked this man. It wasn't that Akaashi was ordinary or unlovable- he was, for all intents and purposes, still a _stranger_. Bokuto was desperate to change that status of their relationship, but baby steps- he had to remember to take tiny, small baby steps and do this right. He didn't want to scare the man away.

 

"You're fucking whipped bro," Kuroo said as he ruffled Bokuto's hair. Bokuto simply stuck his tongue out before taking a shot and sucking on the lime, a zing running down his spine. He smiled loopily as his half buzzed brain responded to Kuroo for him.

 

"You've been whipped for years, don't judge me, bed head."

 

"Fair enough." 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

_Bokuto-san, what is your favorite color?_

 

_Blue. Def blue. And you?_

 

_Gray. Soft shades of grey_

 

Bokuto hummed in acknowledgment at the response, and his knuckles brushed against the wooden wall it had become so well acquainted with, before he slowly raised his hand to tap out a _Hey, what's your number?_ , but he chickened out in the last minute and settled for a _What's the one place you want to visit?_ instead.

 

The response he received was surprisingly quick. 

 

_The blood falls in the Arctic._

 

 _What?_

 

It took him a moment, but Akaashi's response was slightly elaborate and almost tapped out with the same enthusiasm he exhibited when they spoke of volleyball. 

 

_It's this beautiful waterfall in the Arctic that's blood red in color and I've seen so many pictures and I really want to see it._

 

Bokuto couldn't help chuckle, and his own interest in the matter peaked. It sounded really amazing, and he didn't mind the cold too much. He was a very warm bodied person, and he actually liked winters, at least more than his peers. 

 

_What about you Bokuto-san?_

 

 _Gordon Ramsey's restaurant in London._

 

_Why?_

 

He laughed out loud at how _exasperated_ Akaashi's response seemed, and he collected himself before replying. 

 

 _I heard the food's super nice._

 

 _And I really wanna see him do the idiot sandwich thing in real life._

 

He again imagined Akaashi laughing at his childishness, and it made him so damn happy. He slowly leaned against the wall, allowing the back of his head to gently rest on the surface. He had become well acquainted with this wall now, and he noticed things about it that he hadn't before- like the dents in the far right corner, or the random dark and light patches, how some areas were smoother than others, and how it actually smelled.... pleasant. An earthy smell, a comforting smell, a smell he now associated with Akaashi. 

 

Of late, the two of them had slowly started talking more about each other than volleyball and the weather. Small details, not very important, yet extremely so. He liked comparing Akaashi to a jigsaw puzzle, and every piece of information he received fit together to form an entire being, a complete entity, and he knew without a doubt, that it would be a beautiful piece of work. 

 

His crush, it appeared, hadn't diminished in the slightest over the course of time that they had been "chatting". It didn't help that Akaashi was equally interested in him and his interests, or that he sometimes teased the man. Bokuto also noticed how their conversations had gotten increasingly lengthier- Akaashi seemed to be making time for him. Their conversations had slowly started to take place over the weekends as well, just like today, a Saturday. It had been about 3 weeks since the fateful _Hello_ , yet after such a short period of time, Bokuto couldn't imagine his life without Akaashi. 

 

The loneliness, the ever present loneliness, was slowly seeping out of his body, making him feel so much lighter, freeing him from invisible shackles he didn't know were chaining him. Kuroo believed that their strange relationship was slightly unhealthy, Bokuto begged to differ. _Unconventional?_ Yes. _Extremely weird?_ Most definitely. _Tedious?_ At times. But unhealthy? Absolutely not. 

 

His smiles came more naturally now, all because whenever he felt down, he thought of the man on the other side of the wall that he could complain to, the man who would patiently listen to his rants,and gently advise and console him. 

 

Whenever he felt excessively happy or accomplished, the same applied. His go to guy had always been Kuroo, his bro and best friend, and that hadn't really changed- now Kuroo just shared that position with a faceless person. 

 

What made Bokuto's heart pound was the few rare instances that Akaashi sulked around him, those times he depended on Bokuto to make him feel better. He felt trusted, he felt like he was getting just a tiny bit closer to the man. 

 

On the whole though, he knew he was still the one that was more forward and willing in the relationship. It wasn't that Akaashi was hesitant in anyway, but there was a distance between them, a distance he knew would take time and patience and trust to bridge. He was capable of waiting, but he was also an impatient individual. He hoped his impatience wouldn't ruin their carefully built relationship. 

 

_Well Bokuto-san I'm pretty sure he wouldn't actually do that_

 

_This is Gordan Ramsey, do not underestimate him_

 

_Fair enough_

 

Bokuto looked at the wall clock and was shocked to notice how late it had gotten. He was hungry as hell too, yet he had forgotten everything, all over a conversation about the Arctic and Gordan Ramsey. He really was whipped. For the first time ever, Bokuto cut off their conversation with a _Super hungry, gonna get food, talk later_ and his message was answered with a _Sure, goodnight Bokuto-san_. 

 

He hopped off the bed and tried to cook up something nice, inspired by the blonde chef that made people shit their pants on a semi-regular bases and cursed like a sailor. It didn't end all that well, and he was forced to order pizza. He couldn't help imagine going to that restaurant and paying through his nose to eat the food.

 

He also couldn't help imagine how much better the food would taste if he went there on a date with Akaashi. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bokuto blamed Kuroo one hundred percent for what he was about to do. Without Kuroo constantly bugging him to make some desperately needed progress, he wouldn't be standing outside Akaashi's door with a wad of post its in his hand, he wouldn't be contemplating writing a note and sticking it on his door, _most certainly not._

 

Yet there he was, a pink pen in hand, the post its much heavier than they actually were, a dead weight in his palm. He had to be honest- he was using Kuroo as an excuse. He wanted- no _needed_ some progress- and it had long since become clear to him that Akaashi wasn't going to make a first move of any sort. 

 

Before he could lose the last of his nerve, he tore out a post it and stuck it on the door and scribbled a messy _Bokuto here, hope you had a good day_ before flushing a bright red and slamming his door shut behind him. 

 

Never in his life did he think he'd fear, hate and love a post it this much. 

 

That night, Akaashi didn't mention the post it, and Bokuto just assumed that it might have flown away or been torn off or simply ignored. He didn't know whether to feel relieved or utterly disappointed. They spoke about their days, Akaashi complained about how none of his ties looked good with his new blue shirt, Bokuto grumbled about how cocky college students could sometimes be and they laughed and distracted each other. He found out that Akaashi loved the ocean but wouldn't swim in it, and that he had a strange obsession with wind chimes. Bokuto thought it was sweet.

 

They bid each other goodnight and Bokuto took his nap, woke up and ate, planned strategies and watched some television before crashing for the night. His legs had started acting up again but he ignored it, and sleep always helped ease the strain.

 

The next morning, as Bokuto walked out of his apartment, bleary eyed and half asleep, a flash of blue caught his eye. There it was, a stark contrast against his dark wood front door, a single post it note, with a neat scrawl that read _Akaashi here, I had a wonderful evening, have an awesome day yourself Bokuto-san_. 

 

Akaashi's handwriting was beautiful, and Bokuto fell in love just a bit more. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The post it notes become another form of communication. There was absolutely nothing important written in them, they were usually encouragements and good wishes and smiley faces and occasional owl doodles from Bokuto. They weren't anything big, but every note made his morning just a tad bit happier, just a tad bit more bearable. 

 

The pain in his leg was worsening, and he was slowly considering visiting his doctor again. As he picked up the phone, ready to dial in the digits he now knew by heart, a gentle knock on the wall brought a smile to his lips and he decided to schedule an appointment later. 

 

 _Good evening Bokuto-san, how was practise?_

 

 _Practise was nice. Going smoothly. What you wearing tonight?_

 

Bokuto loved picturing Akaashi in the clothes he described to Bokuto, and he sometimes helped pick a tie or a pair of shoes. His fashion sense was absolutely horrendous, but Akaashi assured him that his simple tastes were rathering refreshing at times, and it made choosing an outfit easier with another person's opinion. So Bokuto often gave his input, even if he was 100% sure it was ignored a majority of the time. 

 

 _Black shirt with a mint green tie_

 

 _Wow I'm sure that'll look amazing_

 

It took Akaashi a moment before Bokuto heard him tap out what could only be described as a coy _Thank you Bokuto-san_ and the thought made his heart stutter in his chest. He wanted to see Akaashi. He wanted to straighten out his collar and pat his chest lightly, maybe give him a goodbye and a good luck kiss. 

 

Shaking the thoughts right out of his head, Bokuto simply tapped out a _Have a good evening_ before crawling under his sheets. 

 

This was getting dangerous. This was getting very dangerous. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Some nights, Akaashi would vanish. They wouldn't speak, yet Bokuto could hear him shuffle around his room if he kept his ear against the wall. He knew people needed their space and time to themselves, and he always respected that. Through all their conversations, he had learned that despite talking to a stranger via a wall in morse, Akaashi wasn't a particularly open person. Bokuto had to earn every secret and piece of information he managed to get out of the man. Somehow that made it more important, irrespective of how insignificant the details were. 

 

The nights that Akaashi kept silent were bad ones for Bokuto. He respected his space, but the loneliness would nearly envelope him whole, threatening to crush him. The apartment would suddenly seem too large again, the silence made him want to pull his hair out, and a sense of total isolation would settle heavy and deep in his gut. It was nights like these where Bokuto doubted his importance. He knew he meant something to someone, he knew that, yet the yawning silence told him a different story, one he did not want to be a part of. 

 

Still, he refused to bother Kuroo or Akaashi. Kuroo had dealt with enough of his shit and Akaashi... Akaashi didn't deserve to be subjected to his negativity. They often conversed about insecurities, but those were more job oriented or about what their students and employees respectively thought of them. They rarely ever spoke about anything pertaining directly to them. Somehow, it seemed like they both had _too much_ to say, and it was impossible to get the message across via a wooden wall.

 

He walked to the living room and turned the TV on, and there was absolutely nothing interesting on, yet the noise made him feel slightly better, as if he hadn't faded into oblivion. Curling up on the couch the way he often saw Kuroo do it, he slowly drifted away, the pain in his leg a constant that he was beginning to ignore again. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bokuto was, _and he was having a hard time wrapping his head around this_ , sick. He wasn't someone that fell ill at all, and most people joked that it was because of his bubbly attitude and his general positivity. Few people knew he wasn't always happy, but he liked being thought off as a person with an uplifting attitude. He assumed that faking it may someday make it a reality. The plan didn't exactly fail but it hadn't succeeded extremely spectacularly either. He was neither here nor there, and he was ok with that. 

 

Kuroo had dropped by to say hi, and he had also dropped off pain meds, cold and hot packs, a bottle of aspirin and some soda. He had tucked Bokuto in, and even placed a loving kiss on his forehead, and the physical contact made Bokuto so content. He didn't normally remember how much he missed something until he got a taste of it again, perks of having a short attention span.

 

But now he missed Kuroo. He missed his laugh and his motherly ways. He missed the warmth of his hand when he checked his temperatures, the texture of his calloused palm. He missed having another human he loved and trusted around him. 

 

He drifted in and out of consciousness, never truly asleep, but not wholly awake either. His breathing was slowly normalizing, he wasn't panting anymore at least. He licked his dry lips and grimaced at his sick breath- it smelled ghastly. He slowly began wiggling out of his cocoon, wanting to grab some water and meds, brush his teeth and crawl back to bed. 

 

A familiar knock on his wall made him smile involuntarily and he felt better, at least on the inside. Today wasn't going to be a quiet day, and that made him happy. 

 

_Hey Bokuto-san_

 

He slowly tapped out a _Yo Akaashi_ but realized with growing irritation that it was difficult to stay sitting up, that his vision was blurring and his stomach was churning and he felt so uncomfortably _hot_. Removing his clothes wasn't really an option though- that was too cold. 

 

 _How was your day_

 

 _Bad_ Bokuto sniffled before continuing _I've got the flu. I think I'm dying_

 

The response was swift, and the slightly erratic rhythm of the taps made his heart soar- it showed how anxious Akaashi was. A wall separated them, yet he could feel the man's anxiety permeate through the worn out wood. 

 

_What are you doing up? please get some rest Bokuto-san_

 

 _Yeah I'm gonna do that, too tired to chat anyway, just wanted some water and some meds_

 

_Have you eaten?_

 

Bokuto frowned. The thought of food wasn't appealing, but it wasn't down right repulsive either. He just didn't want to eat anything ready made. He craved his mother's miso soup, with clam chowder or maybe a hot pot. He loved it when the steam curled up and tickled his face, the smells a mix of delicious and nostalgic. No restaurant ever got it right. 

 

 _Nah, I'll eat tomorrow I guess_

 

He could hear Akaashi drum his fingers against the wood before he tapped out a quick _I gotta go_ and he vanished. Bokuto would be lying if he said that the reaction didn't wound him just the slightest, but he ignored it. He was too tired and sleepy to care. 

 

Shuffling out of his messy bed, he made a beeline for the bathroom and somehow managed to brush his teeth, fingers holding the counter in a death grip. He looked like hell- hair plastered to his forehead, sweaty, pale, sunken eyes. A shower, he promised, would be taken the next day. Now he wanted some water and aspirin. 

 

As he exited his bathroom, he heard a knock on his door. He wasn't expecting Kuroo, and no one else visited him without calling first. Perplexed, he slowly dragged his weary body over to the door and yanked it open, but there was no one there. Narrowing his eyes in irritation, Bokuto turned around, ready to slam the door dramatically, but a curl of steam, _delicious smelling steam_ , distracted him. 

 

Glancing down, his eyes widened at the sight of a bowl, partially covered by a lid, left on a tray, along with a note, the scrawl familiar.

 

Picking the tray up gingerly, Bokuto walked in carefully after kicking his door shut, and placed the tray on his dining table, before pulling the note close to his face and reading its content. His eyes watered for a different reason when the words and their meaning registered in his mind.

 

_Bokuto-san,_

_Don't skimp out on meals, it's not healthy, and you need your fuel. I've made chicken soup and I hope I'm not overstepping any boundaries, but you should eat, especially when it's still hot. Feel better soon!_

_Akaashi._

 

Bokuto never thought he'd cry over a bowl of chicken soup, yet there he was, gentle tears coursing down his face as he scooped some of the hot liquid into his mouth, and he couldn't believe that the soup rivalled his mom's. It wasn't the same, but it was more than good enough. 

 

He hadn't felt this loved in a long time. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

In retrospect, he should have taken the pain in his leg more seriously. Pain was a constant, but when it acted up, that's when Bokuto knew something was severely wrong, yet he ignored it because he didn't want to lose more than he already had. Sadly, the limitations of his body were unknown to him, and it appeared that he had pushed himself too much. 

 

Bokuto woke up in a hospital bed, and as he slowly moved his hand, it came in contact with something soft, and his first thought was that the texture was familiar, the softness not foreign to his fingers. 

 

Slowly sifting his fingers through the silky material, he didn't take more than a moment to note that it was Kuroo's hair, and that he was probably sleeping next to him. Slowly massaging his scalp the way he used to when they were in college, he felt the man stir awake and he waited for the yellings and the scoldings he knew he deserved. 

 

Kuroo peered down at his face, and the look of utter worry and exhaustion pulled at Bokuto's heart, making him feel guilty. 

 

The scoldings never came- instead, Kuroo pulled him into a bear hug, his hands gripping Bokuto's shoulders as he buried his face in his neck. He probably smelled terrible- like antiseptic and a hospital.

 

He hated the way hospitals smelled. 

 

"Bro," he croaked weakly, trying to figure out what was going on, "what happened?" 

 

Kuroo finally pulled away and looked him in the eye, his fingers gently cupping Bokuto's face as he soaked in every detail, every line and wrinkle and tiny cut. He was starting to freak Bokuto out. 

 

"You just collapsed. Your leg's gotten worse but the damage is reversible. The surgery is done, I signed all the forms, but you've been out for about 4 days. I was starting to worry. _Almost_." Kuroo looked on the verge of tears and Bokuto began to panic. He couldn't handle Kuroo crying; he started crying too and it just ended up in a giant mess.

 

Bokuto grinned instead. "I feel better so don't worry, I'm not dying on you yet." 

 

Kuroo's answering smile seemed less forced and more natural, taking on its usual slightly cocky twist of lips. Bokuto missed that smartass smile, and it was good to see it again. 

 

The thought of Akaashi hit him like a freight train, and suddenly he wasn't in such a good mood. He had disappeared for four entire days, vanished, and even if Akaashi had quiet days, they never lasted for more than an evening.

 

He suddenly realized that there was a possibility that Akaashi didn't miss him as such, he was just waiting for Bokuto to start up another conversation the way he always did, and the thought made him pout. 

 

He was the initiator, even after them being "friends" for roughly four months now, and he still felt insecure, still felt like he was the only one that cared enough. Maybe this would test their bond. 

 

He was allowed to leave the hospital 3 days later, so he hadn't spoken to Akaashi for a grand total of one whole week. He was more than capable of walking on his own, thus allowing him to reject Kuroo's offer of taking a day off to help him settle down back at home. He wanted some alone time, to think, and to really judge his relationship with Akaashi. 

 

When he reached his apartment, all he saw was his dark wood front door. No blue post it with a good morning, or a smiley, nothing. He felt sad, he felt disappointed, he felt _tired_. A one-sided crush was too difficult to deal with.

 

He roughly pushed the key into the lock and twisted, wrenching his door open- only to nearly slip and fall flat on his face.

 

Looking down, his mouth fell open as his eyes landed on a single piece of paper, folded carefully, a familiar scrawl peeping out from beneath the folds.

 

He picked it up as carefully as he could, before opening it with trembling hands, and he didn't know what to expect anymore. Akaashi was so difficult to understand, so who knew what the letter could possibly say. 

 

_Bokuto-san,_

_It has been roughly six days since we spoke, and I just... I miss you. I miss you talking about your days, I miss hearing about your college students, and how Kuroo-san and you were the coolest flat mates and about Gordan Ramsey. It doesn't surprise me that you got bored of me- I'm not very interesting, after all, yet I wish... I wish you would've told me that you didn't want to speak anymore. I would've let you go, I promise. ~~You weren't mine to begin with~~ _

_I hope I haven't offended you in anyway, and if I have, I'm very sorry, that was certainly not my intention in the slightest. I hope you are well._

_Akaashi_

 

Bokuto had never reached his bedroom in such a short period of time before, but the moment he did, his hands flew towards the wall and he started banging on it, not in morse, but out of frustration and shock. Akaashi's letter had made him realize so many things- that he was just as insecure, that he cared, that he had low self-esteem too, and that he needed to be loved immediately.

 

Calming down was difficult, but the moment he felt the slightest bit more stable, Bokuto stopped slamming his fist against the door, and began tapping out a message rapidly. 

 

 _I was in the hospital, I was never bored. Never._

 

He didn't get a reply, at least not immediately, but he continuously tapped the message out for a good six minutes before slumping against the wall, his forehead touching the cool surface. He was breathing hard, and he just couldn't handle how much he needed to tell this person how much he meant to Bokuto, how he had helped without even trying, how he had fallen in love over the past four months, and how he yearned to just see him, see the entirety of him. 

 

He wasn't expecting a reply, but when that familiar knocking echoed through his room, his heart nearly broke his ribcage and threatened to be the very end of him. He listened as closely and carefully as possible, and apparently Akaashi had received Bokuto's previous message. 

 

 _The hospital? Are you ok now Bokuto-san_

 

 _Yes. I'm much better._

 

_That's good_

 

Bokuto didn't need to be a rocket scientist to notice the sudden distance between them and it _hurt_. It hurt so much, he couldn't bear it anymore. Kuroo's words repeated themselves in his mind- 

 

_You want everything to remain the same, magical and mysterious and fun. But you're both stagnating, and this isn't a long term solution. Bokuto, you gotta do what you gotta do. You have to make the first move, and if it ends in rejection, I promise we'll drink through the night. But this... don't drown, don't set yourself up for pain. Nothing's worth that, you're worth so much more._

 

Taking in a deep, steadying breath, Bokuto raised his hand, ready to tap out what could potentially be his last morse message to Akaashi- but he couldn't do it. He couldn't take that last step, he couldn't change what they had, he didn't know if trying for more was worth the risk. 

 

 _I'm kinda tired so I'll talk later ok? Night_

 

With that, he sealed away his heart, and tears prickled his eyes, but he swallowed thickly and blinked them away. 

 

He could hear Kuroo's voice chastise him in his head, and he knew he deserved it. He was being a coward, but really, who could blame him? 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 _You have a tournament don't you? Good luck Bokuto-san!_ ^.^

 

Bokuto smiled as he touched the blue post it, and slowly peeled it off, pocketing it. The tiny piece of paper felt warm, and the words made him feel confident, made him feel like he could achieve anything, including this victory over a national level team. His team was in no way lacking, and they had all put in their hundred percent since his return. He appreciated the effort tremendously, and he knew it would pay off.

 

Akaashi and he were back to normal more or less, and the post its were back, along with the twilight conversations that were always the highlight of his day. They still griped and complained and laughed and teased and just... shared. They conversed everyday without fail, even if they had nothing to say. Akaashi's quiet days had become few to none, and Bokuto enjoyed his company.

 

But..... Something was so vastly _amiss_. It felt like there was this giant elephant in the room, and it was slowly, extremely slowly, beginning to put a strain on their unconventional relationship. 

 

Ever since the hospital visit, they didn't speak about the letter. Bokuto wanted to bring it up, he wanted to bring it up so bad, but every time, _every single time_ , he backed out and just tapped out a _how was Hinata today_ instead, inquiring about his co-workers. 

 

He was distracted from his self deprecating thoughts by the vibrations in his pocket, and one look at the caller ID flashing the picture of a black cat had him pressing receive in a second. Kuroo never failed to call before matches, and he loved how he didn't forget after all this time. 

 

"Brooooo! Good luck, though you don't need it. I hope" 

 

Bokuto laughed lightly. "Thanks man. I'm kinda nervous- got those moths in my stomach and shit." 

 

"Moths are for flames. You've got the butterflies."

 

"Do you hear that bro?," Bokuto asked.

 

"Hear what?," Kuroo inquired, voice still laced with sleep. It was 5:30 in the morning after all. 

 

"The sound of me not giving a fuck."

 

"Har har. Anyway, make sure to text me when your match is done." 

 

"Will do." 

 

"How's... Aka-chan?" 

 

Bokuto sighed, and the guilt washed over him anew. He was well aware of the fact that Kuroo was doing all the pushing and probing for his good, but it didn't make him any more courageous. It just made him feel riddled with guilt. 

 

" _Aka-chan_ is fine."

 

"Bro," Kuroo sighed, and he sounded defeated. It annoyed Bokuto, why did _Kuroo_ sound so upset? He was the one with the one-sided crush.

 

"I don't have time for this," Bokuto gritted out, and he just shut his eyes as he slumped against his front door. "I gotta go. Let's do this another time." 

 

"Fine," Kuroo damn near growled before softening his voice, "but I won't forget. Something has to be done."

 

"I know," Bokuto whispered, before pressing the end call button and shoving the phone deep into his pockets. 

 

He and Akaashi were fine, everything was back to the way it was, and they still spoke everyday, they still loved volleyball and complaining and Bokuto still helped him pick his ties. 

 

He didn't know how much longer he could do this, didn't know how long before he couldn't pretend anymore. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bokuto's first step was to start adding hearts to his post its. He would add little hearts wherever he could, trying to be overly cutesy and weird, but Akaashi gave him the same standard responses. He seemed to be indulging him, yet that tiny distance, that small little gap between them that had _nothing_ to do with the wall between them didn't seem to be getting any smaller, and it frustrated Bokuto. 

 

It sucked to realize that he couldn't be a coward and get what he wanted at the same time. 

 

Kuroo had been getting on his case of late, forcing him into taking baby steps towards developing something more with Akaashi. He couldn't even count the mere number of times he had scribbled his number on a piece of paper and contemplated pushing it under Akaashi's door, but he never went through with it. 

 

He was in his bedroom again, going over various strategies and team plays. His team had a good chance at nationals, they were the finalists. The last team they were going to face wasn't in any way easy, and the captain and vice captain had already thrown many ideas his way, and he tried to get them to all weave together. 

 

The expected _Good evening Bokuto-san_ came eventually and he tapped back a _Yo Akaashi what's up?_ without even looking up from his planner. He was really in the zone, and he made sure to write down all his thoughts before finally closing the book, sighing softly as his head hit the wall with a muted thud.

 

 _Something interesting happened today_

 

 _Oh yeah?_

 

 _Yeah. One of my customers asked me out on a date_

 

Bokuto's blood froze in his veins, and he could feel the cold creep up his neck, making him feel nauseous and terrible at the same time. He hated this feeling, a sensation so close to butterflies, but for all the wrong reasons. 

 

 _Oh yeah? And what did you say?_

 

 _I'm not into dating my customers Bokuto-san, so I said no. He was cute though_

 

Bokuto didn't know it was possible to feel both _relief_ and _horror_ at the same time. He had known Akaashi was bisexual, they'd exchanged that information a few weeks ago with him declaring his own pansexuality. That piece of information told him he did indeed have a chance, but he still couldn't risk it. Or at least he thought he couldn't. 

 

Possessiveness, jealousy, anger- they were strong emotions, emotions that were pretty foreign to Bokuto. He felt very petty amounts of envy and jealousy, and he wasn't a very possessive person to begin with- or so he thought. 

 

He had no right to be possessive over someone that wasn't even his. This certainly didn't stop him though. 

 

Kuroo had been right, _of course_ he had been right. They were stagnating, they were a ticking time bomb waiting to detonate and if he didn't confess, if he didn't say something, _anything_ really, he'd be losing something that he knew was irreplaceable. 

 

The human mind was a strange thing- _fear_ was a strange thing. Bokuto was all for conquering his fears, but there was a part of him that still wanted to cling onto their current relationship. He didn't want the post its to stop, he didn't want the knock on his wall to disappear, he didn't want to be _alone_. 

 

He realized in that moment that while he focused on all the cons of confessing, it hadn't occurred to him that his confession could go well. _What if_ Akaashi said yes? _What if_ they dated, and became each other's, and he could finally kiss him good night and good morning? _What if_ the post it notes didn't stop, they just stuck it on their fridge instead, in the apartment they shared? 

 

He was getting carried away, but he realized that _they_ were worth it. They were worth the risk. They were always going to be worth it. 

 

He closed his eyes and breathed in deep, Kuroo's voice encouraging him, and he slowly lifted his hand, ready to tap out what could only be his most important morse code yet. 

 

_Akaashi, we can't continue to do this, I can't do this._

_I like you. Romantically. A lot. You have no idea._

_xxxxxxxxxx, my number. Call me if you think I've got a shot. But I can't do this anymore._

_I like you too much to only have you in my life through a wall. This wall, I want it to not exist anymore._

_No hard feelings if you don't feel the same way, but no more beating around the bush._

 

It was too late to take back what he just said, and the moment the last line had been tapped out, Bokuto jumped off his bed and ran for the door, bolting. He needed a strong drink, he needed to be surrounded by stifling smoke, he needed something familiar. 

 

He needed to be away from Akaashi. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Two days later, Bokuto was at practice and he wasn't going easy on his students. They needed the extra training, and he was making sure they received it. He finally called for a water break, and then asked them to do suicide drills, which was met with a collective groan. He simply smirked before his thoughts drifted. 

 

Yesterday had been hell. He wanted Akaashi to call. He didn't want Akaashi to call. He wanted to talk to him again, yet he couldn't and he hadn't returned home yet, bunking at Kuroo's instead. Cowardly, maybe, but he was in pain. He tried not to think about it today, which wasn't really working, so he decided to immerse himself more in the training. 

 

He didn't regret it though. He didn't regret confessing, he didn't regret pushing the facade aside. Bokuto liked Akaashi, probably loved him, and he needed to know that. Even if he was rejected, at least he had tried. He didn't want to live with regret, and Akaashi was worth the risk. He had been from the very beginning, since that very first whisper of _Hello_ that had echoed through Bokuto's bedroom. Bokuto just wished it didn't suck so much to not talk to him everyday.

 

He had forgotten to put his phone on silent and suddenly, the gym was filled with the tunes of Built by Titan, and in an attempt to make it stop, Bokuto picked the call up without checking the caller ID. 

 

"Yo, Bokuto here."

 

" _Bokuto-san?_ "

 

Everything came to a standstill- the world no longer spun on its axis, the winds had ceased to gently blow against his body, his students were moving in slow motion, his own breathing had halted. 

 

It was the most beautiful voice he had ever heard, and _of course_ , it had to belong to one Akaashi Keiji.

 

Bokuto cried, but for once, Kuroo was ok with that. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It took Bokuto three dates and a first kiss to finally pinpoint exactly what Akaashi's voice reminded him off- blue wind chimes, gently swaying by the ocean.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really, really, _really_ hoping this gave you some sort of feels, but that's just my wishful thinking *shrugs helplessly* 
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it! Comments and Kudos make me very happy! <3
> 
> [My tumblr](http://qi-tana.tumblr.com)


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